Mental Lockdown
by Varity Sinning
Summary: Snape has too much to drink and too much on his mind.


**-=Severus and Hermione belong to JKR, not me. If you don't already know that you're a silly ass.=-**

**Mental Lockdown**

The phone screamed in the inky darkness. "Hello?" She asked, at once worried what was wrong, given the hour.

"My love-my head is ready…" The voice trailed away, "It's too late-too long."

"Snape?"

"I never told you, did I? The words weren't in the Potions' Text. It...smelled like you, hair and wool and your fifty or so odd books."

Becoming seriously alarmed Hermione said, "Get a hold on yourself. However much you...is this some kind of game?"

"Potter surrendered to the Dark Lord. His love for everyone shielded us in his sacrifice. Must I surrender to you in order to win the war. I want the war to end." In his silence that followed she could hear a rustling of paper and small objects making careless impacts. "I've something in my head, I need to work out. Lovely." He said silkily.

"It's three in the morning for Merlin's sake, you can come here." Hermione emerged into wakefulness.

The phone went unnaturally quiet, "Sir?"

He burst through the fireplace in front of her. Grabbing her wand off the nightstand, phone receiver hanging from its cord. "Don't move an inch," she uttered. He did though, slightly toward her. "Don't come any closer."

Snape appeared mournful, "no one need get hurt." He ripped his shirt open.

_He may be under some sort of spell. _Hermione looked him over; his heart was clearly visible, it beat disconsolately. "It's cleaved in two, I tried to fix it." He was the very image of a condemned man. Holding his wand in one hand, the other still held his white shirt open. Waving the wand over his chest singing an incantation. The wound knit itself before her eyes. "Look at you, looking at me. See my pain, it's easy for you. You think it's easy for me?" Every word Snape utter steeped in regret. "It is not." Snape whimpered.

"What do you want from me?" Hermione was terrified.

His words were incomprehensible. Snape looked around as though he was lost.

"Snap out of it Snape!" She knelt up on the bed waving her hand to get his attention. Her wand hand at her side.

Snape did snap to it, "Ms. Know-it-all. Insufferable, infuriating..." She looked as though ready to interrupt. "No, you let me finish," Snape's voice shook with fury and outrage. He took another step across the front of the bed. "You trouble me more now than ever. I thought you wanted to learn, from me. I thought I played an important role in your life, in your success." He plodded a couple more steps around the bed coming closer to her.

She pointed her wand at his chest again, "don't come any closer."

His face reflected torment and pain. Putting his palm over his left breast. "You've broke it." Snape took a swig from a flask.

"You come any closer and you'll regret it," she warned, seeing that he looked like he was going to advance on her. Severus was making her nervous from a combination of his unfocused state and physical proximately.

"You know what I regret!" He said with a derisive laugh, the smell of whisky curled tendrils in her sinuses. Solemn and bleary-eyed, "You know, I think; that my departure would be a bad idea."

Distracted for the width of a heartbeat, he closed the distance between them. Wresting the wand from her hand, he threatened. "Don't you ever hold a wand on me if you aren't prepared to use it." He tossed the thin sliver of wood into a corner. She was shocked into stillness. Gently he reached his hand up to draw her to him. His other hand took hers placing it on his bare chest. "Go, ahead." He drawled arrogantly. "Have at me." He brushed her hand over his sparse chest hair.

Throwing her thoroughly off kilter he moved in to skim his parted lips against hers. The atmosphere still felt dangerous she didn't make a move, only allowing him to manoeuvre her hand over his skin. She said quietly, "Let me make some tea. We can talk." _You're making me nervous._

Kissing her again. Snape wrapped his wiry arms around Hermione, pulling her into his orbit. She didn't resist as he lay her back and climbed on to the bed. Pressing one knee between her thighs, he brushed his hands up her thigh caressing and exploring.

Snape rested his arms on the bed, aligning his body with hers. Hermione did not yield to him, and he probed no further. Snape's mind was too clouded by drink, as his body slowed to match his pulse he drifted off to sleep.

The morning after was sober and uncomfortable. The still sleepy eyes gazing upon each other. One question was reflected in them; _so, what now?_


End file.
